Three's A Crowd
by r4ven3
Summary: Not long after Harry's poorly timed proposal of marriage, Harry is on leave, and Lucas is sending Ruth on "the dumbest, stupidest, most badly devised assignment ever in the history of MI-5." However, all is not as it seems. An M-rated two-shot. H&R - who else?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: For the sake of what little plot there is (without which this story would not exist), you have to suspend belief about whether Ruth would acually go along with this assignment, because she's meant to be clever, right? I'm supposing that during times of stress, she's not always as clever as we expect her to be.**_

_**And this is not the story I meant to write when I began writing this, but this is what came out.**_

* * *

This has to be the dumbest, stupidest, most badly devised assignment ever in the history of MI-5, and Ruth, who is now winding her way by rental car down the steep streets of St Ives, at the end of which she hopes to find her B&B, feels like the guinea pig. It had been Lucas's idea, but the rest of Section D had appeared to be encouraging of her driving to Cornwall to keep an eye on the woman with whom Harry had been spending a lot of time.

"I can't find anything incriminating, Lucas," she'd said, "apart from some anti-government student activity while she was at university, but that's par for the course."

"She had a seven year relationship with Francois Bonfils."

"And?"

"He's now doing fifteen years in Fresnes for being part of the plot to murder President Jacques Chirac."

"Which didn't succeed, and has _what_ to do with Frances Carmichael?"

"I'm not sure, but she honed in on Harry as soon as he got to St Ives."

"Why shouldn't she? He's a single man."

"Is he?"

Ruth had stopped typing (which she'd been doing rather angrily, her fingers hitting, rather than gently tapping the keys), and stared across the top of her monitor at Lucas.

"What do you mean by that, Lucas?"

Lucas stood up to his full height of over six feet, and frowned down at her. "Sorry," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "I gathered that you and Harry were …... and that he'd taken some leave to sort out something that might or might not have happened between -"

"Harry has taken leave because he hasn't taken any more than a couple of days off for over five years. He needs a break."

"Ruth, I'm not questioning his need for a break. He works long hours, and I know that Ros Myers' death rocked him. It's just that I …... assumed -"

"Never assume anything, Lucas. Harry and I are close colleagues. Nothing more."

"You've had contact with him since he's been on leave?"

"No. I haven't."

That had been two days ago. Harry has been on leave for twelve days, and already he's found a woman to …... sleep with, it would seem, if Ed Burfield from Section B is to be trusted. Ed is on holiday in St Ives, and has seen Harry dining with this woman on at least three occasions. It was Ed who rang Dimitri, who spoke to Lucas, who then ordered Ruth to go and keep an eye on Harry. And Frances. Ruth is still not sure who or what it is she's meant to be watching. St Ives is hardly a hive of terrorist cells.

She books into the B&B, to discover that her room has been booked and paid for for a week, with the option of extending her stay. That's over the top for a start. She can't imagine she'll need any more than three days away from London. She takes her bag to her room – on the top floor, but at the back of the house, with a window overlooking the back yard of a pub – and hangs her hanging clothes in the wardrobe, and slides her other clothes into the drawers of the dresser. She has brought some books with her – only a dozen or so – and she piles them on top of the dresser. She tests the double bed, and it is comfortable. At least she'll sleep well.

Ruth spends what remains of the day driving around St Ives, using a map which she'd been given when she'd booked into her B&B. Firstly, she drives past the semi-detached double-story stone cottage where Harry is staying. It is close to the beach, but right at the edge of town. She smiles, knowing that Harry wouldn't want to be right in the centre of St Ives. She's surprised that he'd even chosen St Ives, and not somewhere in Spain or Italy, although she remembers him once telling her that his family had holidayed there a few times when he was a child. Perhaps he's revisiting his memories. She knows that Harry has a soft heart.

She also drives past the house where Frances Carmichael is staying. It is modern and expensive looking, while the house Harry is staying in is run down and old, a leftover from the 1930's.

Over dinner in the dining room of her B&B, Ruth contemplates the last four weeks. Ros's horrific death had shocked the whole of Section D, but none more than Harry. Ruth knows that he had been in emotional turmoil at the time he'd asked her to marry him, and she also knows that she did the right thing in turning him down. To have said yes to him when he was so vulnerable may have locked them both into a contract neither of them had been able to properly honour. Of course she wants to be with Harry …... in that way – intimately - but they each have to be sure that each is the person they want, and not the comfort of just any warm body. She also remembers what she'd said to him on the roof – something about them being close enough just as they are, in their working relationship. She's not sure that is true, not for her, anyway. And Harry …... she doesn't know whether he wants companionship only, or just someone to shag when the itch needs scratching. She is certainly sexually attracted to Harry, but she can't believe he feels that way about her. A man like Harry could have almost anyone he wanted. He oozes charisma and sex appeal, so why would he want her?

By the time her head hits the pillow, Ruth is tired and confused, perhaps more confused than she's ever been. Harry has so many secrets – and he is gathering even more secrets while he is here in St Ives – and yet he is a spy, and so having and keeping secrets is a normal part of the life of a spy. Why is it so difficult for her to accept this? Here she is, in Cornwall, to keep an eye on a woman Harry may or may not be shagging, possibly as a reaction to her turning down his proposal of marriage, and all she can do is justify to herself why it is she'd turned him down. As she is about to slip into sleep, Ruth knows in her heart that turning Harry down has been one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She knows that she can't keep denying – to herself, as well as to him – the truth of what sits between them.

* * *

Next morning, Ruth is driving towards the house where Frances Carmichael lives, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman. The photograph she'd seen at Thames House had been a few years old, taken at the time of the trial of Francois Bonfils, and back then she'd appeared self-assured, elegant and attractive. That had been eight years ago, and she'd been 43 at the time. Ruth pulls her car into a parking spot diagonally opposite the house, pulls out a newspaper, and pretends to read. She doesn't have to wait long.

From the corner of her eye, Ruth sees movement at the front door of the house. She had bought some reading glasses from the pharmacy the day before, and she is wearing them as part of her disguise. They have a strong dark frame, and even to her own eyes, she looks like a different person while wearing them. She glances up from her newspaper, and over the top of her reading glasses she sees Harry's stocky figure walking down the pathway to the gate, and then as he closes the gate behind him, he looks up at the second floor window and smiles, and then walks to a dark green car, and gets in. In a second floor window, Ruth sees a figure standing, holding the curtain apart. Ruth looks down at her newspaper as the car drives past her. She looks into the rear view mirror, and watches the car leave the street. It is only then that she feels the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Ruth is angry, rather than sad. She is angry that only a few weeks after he'd asked her to marry him, Harry is having sex with another woman. Well, she's dodged a bullet there. He's still the same philandering fool he'd been when he was young and married.

_But I turned him down. Had I said yes, would he still be out with other women? Would he have needed to get away from me so badly that he had to take leave?_

Despite it being only a little after 7 in the morning, Ruth rings Lucas.

"I don't think I can do this," she says, as soon as he answers.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything. It appears Harry spent the night with Carmichael. I just saw him leave."

"You're meant to be watching the woman, Ruth. We need to know why it is she's honed in on him."

"I don't know, Lucas. Maybe he's her type. Maybe he honed in on her."

"That's not what happened. According to Ed Burfield, they were each dining at The Quay – alone – when she approached him. He shook his head, so she backed off. The next night the same thing happened, and he – rather reluctantly, it seemed – allowed her to join him, and after dinner they left together."

That news didn't make Ruth feel any better.

'Besides," she says, "I can't follow someone who stays at home all day."

"Enjoy yourself today, Ruth. It's not all about work. Tonight, you need to be at the same restaurant. They go there every other night or so."

Which leaves Ruth wondering what it is they do on the nights they _don't_ go to dinner. "Sod men," she says aloud, as she starts the car, and does U-turn in front of Frances Carmichael's house.

* * *

Ruth does as Lucas advises. She tries to enjoy her day. She spends most of the morning walking around St Ives, until just ahead of her, she sees Harry enter a shop, and then she decides that she'd be safer in her room at the B&B. She turns and wends her way back to the beach, where she wanders along the sand. It is still six or eight weeks until the season begins, and there are few tourists. The wind whips her hair, and chills her, even though she is wearing several layers under her hooded jacket.

It is at Lucas's suggestion that at 7 o'clock, she heads to The Quay restaurant on Quay Street, near the entrance to Smeaton's Pier. The restaurant is smarter than she's used to, but she's received assurance from Lucas that MI-5 will cover all her expenses while she is away. She sits at a small table at the back of the restaurant, orders a bottle of wine and a dozen oysters, and waits. She is on her third glass of wine by the time she is able to ignore the small voice in her head which is telling her that what she is doing – sitting in the same restaurant where her targets will be dining, and in full view of them – is poor trade craft.

"Sod trade craft," she says, not recognising that she'd said the words aloud, until the couple dining at the next table suddenly look up at her in surprise.

Ruth is on her fourth glass of wine when Harry and Frances arrive. She is relieved that they are not holding hands, and that when they are seated at a table by the window, they do not gaze into one another's eyes. Despite that, she is flummoxed by Frances Carmichael. She is elegant, yes, but is also showing her age, and has put on more than a few pounds around her hips. Despite that, she is not unattractive. Harry, as usual, looks amazing in slacks, a blue open necked shirt, and a casual jacket. Ruth, on the other hand, is dressed in a sensible dress with buttons down the front.

_It's not surprising Harry doesn't fancy me_, she thinks, topping up her wine glass.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Ruth jumps, and then looks up into Harry's face, as he leans over her, his hazel eyes blazing with anger.

* * *

**_A/N: And I need to remind you that all is not as it seems._**


	2. Chapter 2

Ruth draws back from Harry, but not before his scent wafts over her. She closes her eyes to lose herself in it, before he gets on with his bollocking of her. When he doesn't say anything more, she points to the chair opposite, and surprisingly, he sits.

"Perhaps you should ask Lucas that question, Harry. He's the one who sent me here. Apparently -" and Ruth slurs the word a little. " - your …... companion is on some list or other at Thames House."

"I already know that, Ruth. Are you spying on me, because -"

And Harry stops speaking when Ruth places a finger on his lips, and says a soft "Sshhh." His eyes widen in surprise. He looks over at his own table, where Frances is watching them, and then he stands, takes Ruth's arm, and marches her towards the door which leads to the terrace. Neither Harry nor Ruth notice Frances' eyes following them all the way across the restaurant, through the door, across the terrace, and then down some steps, and out of sight to the beach. When they are on the sand, Harry turns her to face him.

"What's this about, Ruth?"

"I told you. Lucas sent me. To keep an eye on your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Then what is she, Harry?"

Harry looks down at his feet, and passes his hand over his face in a gesture Ruth knows conveys tiredness, and even frustration. She reaches out to touch his arm, and he pulls away from her, his eyes flaring. It is dark, but there are streetlights along the top of the pier, and the one nearest them casts a soft glow across the sand, and catches the fire in Harry's eyes.

Suddenly, Harry sighs heavily, and turns towards the stone wall of the pier, and with his hand at Ruth's back, he guides her the thirty yards or so to the shadows beside the wall. He then leans his back against the wall, shoves his hands in his trousers pockets, and glares at her. Ruth feels a little uncomfortable, but only because Harry has not shared with her what it is going on in his head.

"I wasn't following you," she says at last.

"You must have been, Ruth, and I'd like to know why."

"I'm not all that sure myself, now that I'm here."

Ruth looks up at Harry, and even in the darkness, she can see that his pupils are dilated, and he is looking at her with barely disguised desire. She quickly looks away.

"Do you know why it is I've been spending time with Fran?"

Ruth slowly shakes her head.

"Because she's lonely, and I'm lonely, and we saw a level of loneliness in one another which sparked a need in us both. She and I have had sex maybe three times …... because we each have that need, and we have no-one in our lives who wants that ... degree of closeness with us. That is why I'm with her tonight. I stayed last night at her house, but all we did was talk. She told me about the man she loves, and how she's getting through her life day to day until he gets out of prison. I told her about a woman I work with whom I love dearly, but who doesn't love me, and has refused to marry me."

"You don't love her?"

"Who …... Fran?"

Ruth nods.

"Of course I don't love her, Ruth. How can I when …..." Harry stops, and stands away from the wall. He removes his hands from his pockets, and with one hand he cups Ruth's cheek. She has had just enough wine to be able to accept and even enjoy Harry touching her in this way. She turns her cheek to rest against his hand, while very slowly, he steps closer to her, inching his way closer until he can rest his cheek against hers. Ruth can feel his belly against her stomach, and she likes how it feels – warm and safe and comforting. They have never done anything quite like this together. She slides one hand inside his jacket, and rests it on his waist, where she rubs her thumb in small circles over his skin through his shirt. Harry sighs against her cheek, then he pulls his face away, and watches her.

"Do you know why I allowed myself to have sex with a woman I don't love …... and whom I'll not see again once I return to London?"

Ruth shakes her head, and Harry places both his hands on her waist, perhaps to prevent her running from him.

"It's because I have a body, and occasionally I need more than a quick rub in the shower when I wake up hard after dreaming about you. There are times when I need to be inside a woman's body, and Fran offered hers, and after much hesitation, I accepted her offer. I would much prefer to be inside the body of the woman I love, to be sharing with her that level of intimacy, but I was prepared to take what was on offer. At my age, I can't be turning down opportunities like that."

Ruth is beginning to breathe heavily, and Harry has noticed.

"What do you do for sex, Ruth? How do you get by, day after day, year after year? Was George your last lover?" Ruth nods, still unable to speak. "Wouldn't you like someone to love you well, with gentleness and respect? With love?" Ruth nods slowly. "You see, Ruth, I've known women who can climax just from having their breasts caressed, and I've always wondered were you such a woman. I've dreamed of one day finding that out."

Ruth opens her mouth to speak, but Harry's lips reach hers before she can say anything. His lips are soft and warm and sensual, and she sighs into his mouth, and feels herself fall against him. She slides her arms around his waist, and her hands wander over his back under his jacket. His body is so warm, and she can feel the movement of the muscles in his back as she presses her fingers into them, kneading them with her fingertips. She opens her mouth under his, and she tastes whiskey on his tongue. This is a proper kiss – not a sad kiss, not a goodbye kiss, but a proper snog. Harry presses his body against hers, and she feels him hardening against her belly. When they pull away from one another, he takes one hand from her waist, and begins to open the buttons down the front of her dress.

"Harry …... not here."

"Just let me show you something."

When he has three buttons undone, he pushes his hand underneath her bra, so that it lifts, and he can touch the skin of her breast. Ruth sighs loudly, as he begins to squeeze and stroke, and caress her breast, while at the same time, he kisses her again, his lips soft, forcing open her lips, their tongues meeting and sparring and tangling. It is when Harry's fingers pinch her nipple, and then squeezes it that Ruth feels her lower abdomen beginning to churn and turn. Harry's tongue is then moving in and out of her mouth in the same rhythm as he is squeezing her nipple. Despite her wanting to hold in her response to his tongue, his lips, his fingers, and his other hand, which is squeezing her buttocks, she cannot hold back the surge of energy from deep in her loins. Ruth gives in to her orgasm, which has her gasping loudly, as Harry lifts his mouth from hers, and watches her as she comes. In her desire for more contact with him, she has slid her hand between them, placing her palm against the front of his trousers, and through two layers of material, her thumb glides over his length, back and forth, in an unconscious rhythm which matches his tongue and his fingers.

By the time her body has calmed, Harry has taken her hand from him, and is holding her close to him, his arms encircling her, his cheek next to her own. Only moments later, he feels wetness on her cheeks.

"What's wrong, Ruth," he says gently, pulling away from her to look into her face.

"That was wonderful," she says. "No-one has ever done that for me. I had no idea …..."

Harry smiles, and kisses her gently, before he begins to close the buttons on her dress.

"What if you could have a man who loves you enough to do that for you as often as you want …... how would that be, Ruth?"

Ruth replies by smiling at him, her face soft in her post orgasmic state. Harry is standing away from her a little, and has turned from her as he adjusts his trousers. He is still erect, but he needs to calm himself. They still have to return to the restaurant.

It is at that moment that the lone middle-aged woman stands on the terrace outside The Quay restaurant, and once her eyes adapt to the darkness, she sees the couple in the shadows by the pier wall. She recognises Harry's broad-shouldered figure, and she sees him adjusting the front of his trousers. She smiles, knowing that the woman he is with must be _her_ – the one he loves, and had believed didn't love him. She is glad now that the mysterious MI-5 person – a man with a husky voice – had rung her, and suggested she and Harry dine at The Quay tonight. She'd been shocked by his reaction to the dark-haired woman sitting alone, drinking wine, but she now knows that this is the woman Harry loves. Fran is disappointed that she has lost her bed companion, but she is also happy for him. She would do almost anything to have Francois out of gaol, and in her bed. She decides that tonight it is her turn to pay the bill. Harry has other things on his mind.

* * *

Ruth accompanies Harry to his beach house to spend the night with him. They stumble through the front room of the cottage, and he almost falls as his shin strikes the edge of a low table.

"Fucking thing," he says, as he steadies himself, and Ruth giggles from behind him.

They stand at the foot of the stairs, kissing wildly and passionately, hands under clothing, fingers touching the bare skin of the other for the first time.

"You probably haven't even eaten yet," Ruth says, as she comes up for air.

"I'm planning to eat something much more tasty, Ruth."

She knows she is blushing, even though it is too dark for him to see her face that clearly.

By the time they reach Harry's bedroom, they are both naked. The bedroom curtains are open, and moonlight streams through the window. Harry stands beside the bed, gazing in awe at Ruth's body, while her eyes roam over his face, shoulders, chest, stomach, genitals, legs, and then back again. Harry is fully erect, and to Ruth's eyes, it is the most magnificent sight she's ever seen. She smiles into his eyes, and reaches for him.

"It's your turn, now," she whispers into his ear, holding him close to her.

"_Our_ turn, Ruth. We do this together. It's about us, and how much I love you, and you ….."

"I love you too, Harry."

They fall on to the bed, and slide under the duvet, from where they entangle limbs as they kiss and touch one another. Ruth is overjoyed when Harry settles between her legs, and loves her with his mouth. She climaxes twice before he moves up her body, kissing as much skin as he can reach. Once he is lying beside her, watching her, Ruth again wraps her fingers around his hardness, and very slowly begins massaging him. She watches his face as he closes his eyes, and moans with pleasure, and she can't resist reaching across and kissing those full lips.

Ruth again takes the initiative, and lifts her leg over his hip, allowing him to push himself inside her for the first time. They both gasp at the sensation of him being totally and fully inside her. Their lovemaking is slow and steady, until he feels his balls tightening, and so he thrusts into her with all the drive of his hips, and together they fall into oblivion.

It is much much later that they wake together, their arms still loosely around the other. The moon still beams through the window, and so they each watch the face of the other, and then they exchange light kisses and endearments, before they relax into sleep.

In the morning, as they eat breakfast, Harry rings Lucas. After breakfast, they plan to collect Ruth's things from the B&B, and bring them back to Harry's cottage.

"He didn't object to me taking leave?" Ruth asks, once Harry finishes the call.

"I think he expected it," Harry replies, a small smile on his lips.

"This was a setup, wasn't it?"

"I believe so, Ruth."

"Was Frances in on it?"

"I suspect she may have been."

"Rotten sods."

"Are you complaining?"

She shakes her head, and takes another sip of her tea. "So …... we have sixteen more days here – together?"

"Ruth …... we can have the rest of our lives …. if that's what you want."

"Harry, I thought I asked you not to mention marriage."

"I haven't. I'm talking about …..."

"Living in sin? Together?"

"Living in sin, as you so quaintly put it, will be so much easier if we live under the same roof."

"Whose roof?"

"Well, Ruth, we have two choices. There's your roof, with Beth listening to us from the adjoining bedroom, or -"

"Alright, alright. You win. We live at yours."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm totally, absolutely sure. I'm just …... behaving this way because it's …..."

"Habit?"

"I believe so."

"Can we not do that any more, Ruth? Can we just let good things happen to us …... from now on?"

Ruth reaches out to Harry, and he covers her hand with his. She nods, and they smile at one another over this, their first breakfast together as a couple.

_Fin_

_**A/N: Thanks for all who have read this, and reviewers especially**._


End file.
